Observations of the Displaced
by Lilo89
Summary: HBP spoiler summary inside. The summer is over and Harry has a hard year ahead of him full of adventures and dangers he never suspected. But someone did.
1. A Puzzling Beginning

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. kthx.

Spoiler Summary: At the end of his sixth year Harry knew two things: He had to buy a wedding gift and he had to find and destroy the other horcuxes. Two months later Harry's running down clues as fast as he can find them, yet with little to show for his efforts. Now Hogwarts is starting its school term without him, but the plots and intrigues are in full swing. If Harry wants to save the world he's going to have to pick friend from foe, some from the most unexpected of places. While one bibliophile finds out that reading isn't always a passive activity.

**Chapter One – A Puzzling Beginning.**

There are not many things that Florence Leander enjoyed more than a good book. That is to say, she walked through the park on sunny days with her nose in a book. Setting the stationary bike at level twenty didn't diminish her level of reading comprehension. And why-ever should she spend her allowance on movie tickets when she could get the print version at the library? It was only practical to borrow a book for two weeks than pay to see explosions and partial nudity for an hour and a half.

Obviously, she wasn't leading a very exciting or interesting life herself, being that she could always be found in a chair, at a desk, or on the bus reading. But she was having adventures vicariously through the lives of people who never existed and dead ones she'd never meet.

She continued in this manner for years and years; hardly interrupted by meals, birthdays and life in general. Until one, stormy day the books ran out. There was nothing to read in her house she had not read at least three times before. There was nothing new in the damp basement where her father kept his old magazines so she and her siblings could cut them up for school projects. The newspapers on the piano bench in the parlor had all the crossword puzzles completed and weekday comics colored in. Florence knew the children's books in her baby sister's room by heart. She had no desire to revisit the trite and insipid plots of her older sister's romance novels. She even went so far as to sneak into her parents' room, which was forbidden territory, to see if there was anything new. There was not.

In desperation she read all the labels on the food products and pharmaceuticals in the house. She read the backs of the video cartridges and the instructions booklets to her brother's video games. She searched the attic and found some Christmas carols, but they just weren't the same on a muggy August day.

There was nothing for it; she would have to do something other than read. Such a revelation was startling and distressing. Completely uncertain of what she could do, Florence went up to her room and simply stared into her dresser mirror. Surely Inspiration would come to her. While waiting, she stared at her blond hair and thought of all the lovely descriptions writers could have dreamed up to describe it. It was long and luminous, and despite the humidity it cascaded over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She felt very pretty at the moment, but it was too uncomfortable to leave it like that today and so she put it back up in the messy bun she had before. Next she examined her eyes, which were a bright blue, like the Caribbean Sea on a sunny day – or so she had read. They were largish, but not overly so and would be of perfect proportion when she was older. Her nose was elegantly small and straight; her lips pink (she could not think of any description that wasn't from a romance novel and so left it at that).

Florence was tall for her eleven years and skinny without being lanky. She was also quickly becoming bored with this mental game and went to find a deck of cards.

Of course, they were not to be found. She searched high and low and eventually found herself digging through dust-covered deleterious in the back of the upstairs closet. She was almost read to give up when she moved aside a box of eight-tracks and found a jigsaw puzzle. The box was battered and had its corners chewed off by mice or other vermin. Despite its condition, Florence was still attracted to it because of the beautiful picture of a castle. The picture was faded to blues and grays, a ghost of its former glory.

Florence carefully picked it up and backed out of the closet. Kneeling on the hardwood she opened the box to find that the pieces were still pristine, if for a few dots of mouse droppings here and there. The pieces practically glowed with color.

For the first time she could remember, Florence was excited about something other than a book. A picture _is_ worth a thousand words, and apparently 10,000 pieces.

Florence scampered downstairs to the dining room where she could take advantage of the large table. After clearing off the candle sticks she put the box in front of the seat her father always took at the head of the table like it was a serving dish. Instead of dumping all the pieces on the table, which would be terribly messy, she picked out all the edge pieces and carefully figured out how to put the border together.

The puzzle kept her occupied for hours. Her father commented that he had never seen that puzzle before, nor, in fact, had he ever seen her without a book. Florence felt a pang of loss for her cloth bound companions, but said nothing. He soon went away, but every time he passed through the dining room he would pause to watch and make a few suggestions. Through all the distraction Florence kept working until her mother called everyone in for dinner. Her sister, Elaine, had come home at some point and filled the kitchen with her chatter. Elaine talked as much as Florence read, as if one sister was making up for the utter lack in the other. Florence managed to squeeze a word in to ask where her brother, William, was and it thrilled her to discover he was staying over a friend's house and really, she should have said good-bye when he left.

When the Baby started sticking carrots in her diaper, Florence decided she was done with dinner. After placing her dishes in the sink she returned to the dining room to finish the puzzle. It was coming along well. Now she could see where the towers would rise and where the forest circled the castle. The waters of the lake reflected the blue sky and the hole in the middle of her project hinted at arches and carved wooden doorways. All too soon it was past her bedtime, but her father said she could stay up until after the comedy show was offer because he believed she would have it finished by then. Florence worked even harder and in her excitement time held no meaning. She could almost hear the waters of the lake lapping at the shore, the wind in the trees carrying the scents of summer to the dimly lit room, and shadows shifted as if time were passing in that world as well as her own.

Soon she was putting the last pieces in their place. These pieces were part of a great door at the top of a short flight of wide, marble steps to the castle. Finally there was only one piece left. Florence examined it, savoring the moment before completion. The piece was a honey brown color an 'H' in the middle of four prongs. Florence put the last piece in and something seemed to click. The room seemed a little brighter and more alive than possible in the middle of the night. She stood up on her chair, suddenly full of the energy of anticipation, to get a better look at her masterpiece. She let out a little gasp. The picture was so vibrant and utterly wonderful she felt she could fall right through it and be in a real place.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind rolled through the house, tugging on the curtains and swinging the chandelier. Caught off guard, Florence lost her balance and reached out to the table to catch herself. She landed hard on the puzzle, but while she felt it and the table underneath, they didn't matter much because she was still falling. For a panicked moment she thought the table had collapsed, but then she was tumbling end over end on a soft ground covering of pine needles.

She quickly came to a stop and lay dazed below the tall pine trees. This was nothing like she ever could have expected - to happen in real life at any rate; this sort of thing happened to fictional people all the time.


	2. Oh, it's You

**Chapter Two – Oh, it's You.**

After several minutes of unadulterated panic, Florence picked herself up and took stock of her situation. She was covered in pine needles in an unknown forest with unknown dangers with so many trees obscuring the sky the day could be half started or half over. To her left, the trees extended endlessly into darkness, to her right it was the same. Then something caught her eye. A glimmer of white flame peeked through the trees. It was very small and Florence concluded that fire was better than nothing. Even though it could be the start of a forest fire, or a bandit's torch or sunlight reflecting off a pond, swamp gas, a UFO, or even Jesus having a chat with the Holy Ghost.

At that point, Florence concluded that she must be hysterical and it would be in her best interest to get out of the forest before she became hypothermic and dehydrated too. She started walking toward the flickering flame, studiously ignoring the ominous, cool wind that sent the branches creaking and the larger trunks groaning. She carefully picked her way among the tree roots as a twisted ankle was the last thing she needed. Eventually the moss and short grass gave way to a narrow dirt path which headed in the general direction of the fire's light. Florence looked behind her to see the path twist away into the dark. Several red eyes glared steadily from the bend.

Florence froze. Something large skittered past her and off into the trees. She whirled around only to hear hoof beats quickly approaching. There was an inhuman scream and the sound of branches snapping. Florence silently screamed for her feet to MOVE and carry her away from to safety, but it wasn't until a humongous spider burst from the brush with a spear sticking out of its side that Florence started to retreat.

A split second later a ferocious looking centaur nimbly leapt through the brush and landed behind the fallen spider. Seeing Florence, he ripped the spear from the spider's carcass, but barely took a single step when the hidden spider leapt onto his back and sunk his fangs into the centaur's side. Florence screamed and pelted down the narrow path, never once looking back.

Eventually the trees broke to reveal vast grass fields, a lake, a castle, and a burning white sarcophagus. Florence took in the bare essentials of her surroundings just before her legs gave out and she fell, sobbing, to the ground.

"Here now," said a very loud, deep voice above her, "It's alrigh'. Yeh must be over tired from the trip, happens now and then. We'll be the castle soon little lass." Something heavy and warm was settled on her shoulders. "There's a girl. It's only a short walk to the castle now. Come on."

Large hands helped her stand and a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth was put in her hands. Out of breath and crying like there was no tomorrow, Florence couldn't explain to the giant that she had no idea what he was talking about but she was ever so glad to see him because she nearly died in that forest over there because there were these gigantic spiders fighting with centaurs and they certainly would have killed her too if she had stayed one second longer and please take her home now or at the very least away from the forest.

"All right you first years," he said to the crowd of children who had suddenly appeared, "Stay close."

Florence peeked around the handkerchief to see several little boats lined up on the lake shore not too far away. She was beginning to have some sneaking suspicions about this place. But she was too physically and emotionally exhausted to want to pursue that train of thought at the moment and numbly walked up to the castle with the rest of the children.

The castle loomed over a wide flight of stairs that led up to a tall, ornate door. The giant, whom Florence had labeled Hagrid, knocked on the door. A moment later it was opened by a squat woman with a friendly face and a fancy witch's hat set at a jaunty angle.

"Good evening, Professor Sprout. All the first years are safe and accounted for," he boomed proudly.

"Thank you, Hagrid," said Professor Sprout. She looked down at the first years with a reassuring smile, "Follow me, please."

The professor led them up another flight of wide, ornate steps to an antechamber off a grand hall. The first years gathered around her nervously. Florence was doubly so, certain she would be found out at any moment.

Instead of an angry outing, professor Spout smiled and launched into a little speech about Hogwarts, its houses and what would be happening when she led them into the Great Hall.

Florence tried to get to the witch, knowing it would be better to fess up, but was struck by a sudden coughing fit that left her gasping for air. Florence was not an athletic child and so her lungs seized up from the exertion.

"Oh dear, child, be sure to tell a prefect to take you to see the nurse before bed tonight," said Professor Sprout as she led them out to the Great Hall.

"Here, have this," the boy next to her whispered, pressing a hard candy into her hand.

"Thanks," Florence rasped. The candy turned out to be a soothing lozenge.

"I'm Daniel."

"Florence."

"How do you think they'll decide who goes where?"

"I heard we have to sing twenty verses of 'Henry the Eighth I Am,'" rasped Florence, who wasn't quite ready to stand up and yell 'I don't belong here!' but had an unpleasant feeling she would have to do just that to get their attention.

Daniel laughed at Florence's' droll remark, but it tapered off when the first years entered the Great Hall. Florence glanced at him, with his head tipped back, and looked up to stare at the ceiling that seemed to rise right up into the sky. The banners fluttered in phantom winds while silvery ghosts wandered among the four tables and conversed with the upper years. The long tables seemed to stretch on for miles; a chasm of black robes and curious glances. At the end of it was a raised platform with a beaten old hat resting on a small stool and the teacher's table further back.

Beside the hat stood a tall woman in grey robes with an eye patch and a curiously crooked witch's hat.

Everyone's attention quickly returned to the hat when a long tear near the rim yawned widely and burst into song.

"Hogwarts was built in 902,

By Four Forward thinking Friends

It's stood through times of peace and war,

And still more before the end.

These friends had different values

To weigh a student's quality.

So to keep the measures level,

Used their magic to make me!

Glory to our Gryffindors,

The mighty and the strong.

Who must temper their bravado,

So we might all get along.

Salutations Slytherins

Who peek behind the veil.

Their plotting and pernicious plans

Must serve us all as well.

Harmony amongst Hufflepuffs

Shows where we all can learn,

To share and to negotiate

And where we must stand firm.

Our rapturous Ravenclaws

Are those of nimble minds,

Which pick apart such mysteries

That were never theirs to find.

So think, dear little firsties

Of your virtues and your faults.

For once you're segregated,

You'll be exactly where you aught!"

There was a polite rumble of applause and the hat tipped a bit as if bowing. The witch beside the hat calmly removed a bound scroll from some hidden pocket. She smiled at the students and with a flick of her wrist the long scroll spilled down to the floor. The first years collectively gulped. Granted their numbers didn't surpass forty and really didn't need such a long scroll for just a list of names. In truth, most of the space was taken up by the figures of the clandestine bets between the teachers. None of the students knew this and so were suitably impressed by the display.

'The gig is up', thought Florence, clutching the gigantic coat tightly around her small shoulders.

But no one paid the slightest attention to her.

"Alberdeen, Albert," was the first name called up (Ravenclaw), followed by "Alcott, Bianca" (Hufflepuff) and "Bitter, Margaret" (Slytherin).

The names continued through "Catchlove, Miriam," (Hufflepuff) to "Dzou, Shen," (Ravenclaw) all the way to "Lachlan, Bart," (Gryffindor). Florence knew her name could never be on the roll. She didn't belong here; she had no reason to be here. This was a fever dream, a nightmare that would catch her alone and vulnerable. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor to avoid the utter embarrassment that would inevitably come when she was the last one standing here. It –

"Leander, Florence."

Florence shook. Her name was called. Why was her name called?

"That's you, right? Go!" hissed Daniel, giving her a little shove.

Florence jerked her head around to look at him and then back up at the one eyed professor who seemed much less curious and much more menacing with every step toward the dais. The woman was _tall_, towering over the little stool with the moldy hat. The professor raised an eyebrow as if to say "_Well?_"

Florence immediately put on the hat and perched on the stool.

"Good Evening!" the hat spoke, directly into her head.

"…evening" she mumbled back mentally.

"Oh. It's _you_. Well this is the end of our bargain, so I'll just send you on your merry way."

"Wait!" Florence screamed.

"Yes? Yes, what is it? Speak up!" it huffed.

"What – what are you talking about? Bargains? What agreements?"

"Oh that. I'm supposed to only be mysteriously obtuse about this whole affair, so you'll have to look elsewhere for your answers. But I suspect you will be able to guess what will come next."

Florence had a decidedly sinking feeling. "If anything I'm a Ravenclaw," she tried to argue.

"Everyone has a bit of every house in them," it replied cheerfully.

"You're just a figurehead," she thought at it, suddenly angry, "Sort the kids, go back on the shelf."

"GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted, rolling the r's into a snarl, followed by a short cheer from the students.

The hat was silent. Florence would have sat there for the rest of the evening if the professor hadn't pulled it off her head.

"Go on, your housemates are waiting," the professor said impatiently.

Florence looked up at her, then back at the sea of faces and shut her eyes. Since everything was still there when she opened them again, and since the tall woman looked angry, she soberly slid off the stool and walked stiffly to the Gryffindor table.

"Come now, there's no reason to be petrified!" laughed the older boy she sat beside, "You're a Gryffindor now and not the only one to have fallen in the lake!"

"I didn't fall in the lake," mumbled Florence.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," he said with a little more concern in his voice.

"I didn't fall in the lake!" she hissed and promptly started coughing.

"Oh, sick on your first night. I'll get a prefect to take you up to see our school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, after dinner. She'll set you right, don't worry."

Florence stared blearily up at him and wondered how anyone could be so utterly dense.

"My name's Dennis, by the way. Dennis Creevey," he smiled warmly.

Florence mumbled back her name and some pleasantries she didn't mean in the slightest (being completely miserable as she was). She was a bit preoccupied with the thought that he was a bit taller than she would've expected for a, what, fourth year? Fifth year? Prefects are picked in fifth year, but maybe he wasn't selected.

Florence adjusted the Giant's coat.

"Didn't any of the prefects tell you to change into your uniform when you were on the train?" Creevey asked, finally taking notice.

"I must've been in the bathroom," she mumbled.

"Somebody aught to have told you," he frowned. "I'll tell Vance to bring it up at the prefects meeting."

'_Not a prefect then_.' Florence sighed and turned back to the sorting. The boy who gave her the lozenge was about to be the very last student called.

"Zwickert, Daniel," approached the hat as if it were a skittish horse, walking slowly and confidently before snapping it up and dropping it on his head. He seemed a bit confused while the hat talked to him, but everything was sorted out quickly enough, making Daniel the last Gryffindor of the year.

"Hi!" he said breathlessly after he practically threw himself onto the bench.

Florence barely muttered back a greeting when the Headmistress stood up to give her speech.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Introductions of new staff and instructions for the coming year will be given after the feast, as I am sure you are all very hungry," said the Headmistress. When she sat down again the tables were laden with food.

It was a feast like nothing Florence had ever seen; pitchers full of pumpkin juice and platters of meats and vegetables expertly prepared to amaze the palette. The students all around her were chattering about the upcoming year as they filled their plates. Florence joined in a bit too, chatting quietly with Daniel and another first year, Carlotta Doctorow. The older years gave them some advice about teachers, like speaking up in Flitwick's classes and watching where you put your hands when in Sprout's greenhouses.

The hubbub in the Great Hall began to settle down as students finished their dinners. The Headmistress stood up again and the hall went completely silent.

"As most of you are familiar the loss of Professor Dumbledore last spring there are a few changes to be made so that all of us may have the best and safest year possible. Students are prohibited to venture to the far side of the lake and to go into the Forbidden Forest. When out on the grounds students must be in groups of two or more, and it is suggested that you do the same when going from class to class. Mr. Filch has kindly provided a revised list of banned items, which now includes Werewolf Whistles and anything from WWW's new line of interactive toys."

The Headmistress paused for a moment to be sure she had everyone's full attention. "At this point I would like to introduce two new professors, Professor Fancourt, who will be taking over Transfiguration and Professor Sawbridge, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."

Both of them stood. Fancourt, short man in navy blue robes with disproportionately large, mutton chop side burns, stood up and inclined his head to acknowledge the polite applause.

Sawbridge was a bit taller, wearing loose, grey robes with a black shirt and pants set underneath. She gazed about the room, turning head to compensate for her missing eye and nodded approvingly at the wary looks the students gave her.

Headmistress McGonagall cleared her throat, "I would also like to announce that Professor Sprout has assumed the position of Deputy Headmistress and Professor Vector will take over as Head of Gryffindor House." There was a smattering of subdued applause.

"I suggest you all go and get a good night's rest to be prepared for tomorrow's classes," said the Headmistress and immediately the students began to file out of the Great Hall.

"Come with me, Florence," said Dennis.

Florence said goodnight to her new friends, who hoped she felt better soon, and followed Dennis to the front of the hall.

Dennis led her to Romilda Vane, a fifth year prefect, who told Dennis that all the prefects were busy with other duties, but he could take Florence up to Madam Pomfrey on his own. "Just be back before curfew," said Romilda, "I'll be waiting in the common room."

They went with the general flow of students for a few halls and a few more levels, but were completely alone by the time they reached the hospital wing. Not that Florence really noticed anything more than endless stairs and dim corridors. Florence felt like a zombie, especially when she suddenly found herself looking into the glowing tip of a wand.

"There we go," smiled the Madam Pomfrey. "Seems to be mostly exhaustion, but I'll give you a Draught of Peace to make sure you have a restful sleep."

Florence nodded, looking around nervously while Madam Pomfrey got the potion. She spotted a guy asleep in one of the beds who looked familiar.

Madam Pomfrey caught her staring, "Yes, that's Harry Potter. He's not a student this year, but he drops by to use the library now and then." She paused, glancing at the prone figure, "Really, I shouldn't be caring for non-Hogwarts students or staff, but I can't let him go without a check-up. He's been having some awfully odd adventures that leave him with some injuries that might as well be attended to while he's here." She seemed to catch herself, realizing that she didn't need to justify herself to an eleven year old. "God knows what such an independent young man gets up to."

The potion filled Florence with soothing warmth that made Hagrid's coat unnecessary. Still, Madam Pomfrey added a few warming charms when she took the coat, which she would return it to Hagrid in the morning. Florence accepted Madam Pomfrey's fussing with good grace, hoping her good behavior would earn her one of those beds for tonight. Instead, Dennis came to collect her and take her back to Gryffindor. It was the shortest walk she never remembered.

Too exhausted to do much else she fell asleep in her clothes and in a bed someone told her was her own.

---

CacaoBean and Vampire-child-of-the-ligh – thank you for your kind, encouraging reviews. :)


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